Numerical Impossibilities
by TessaSpencer
Summary: It's CC's birthday, and someone has a surprise for her!


Title: Numerical Impossibilities

Author: Melissa (mamc031282)

Rating: PG

Summary: It's CC's birthday and for once it looks like she might just get to blow out a candle or two.

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY KATHY! (September 3rd) This is for you, on the event of your…numerically lacking birthday. G You have been great to me since I've joined this fandom, and I'm so happy we 'met'. This is a little gift from me to you. 

When CC woke that morning, she promptly hit the snooze button on the alarm, rolled over in bed and pulled her pillow against her chest. If, for only five minutes, she could go back to the wonderful dream world where she held him, and maybe, just _maybe_ start her day off on the right foot. It was, after all, her birthday, and it was, to add insult to injury, her …

The train of thought drifted as she closed her eyes more tightly and tried to pull back the dream she had been having. Strong arms, warm skin and a mass of muscle beside her…it had been one hell of a vivid fantasy too, so clearly visible still to her mind's eye that it took only a second for her to recapture that stir she had felt when the alarm clock first blared.

_Riiiiiinggggg…Riiiiiinnnngggg…_

Throwing the pillow against the headboard, CC rolled over and grabbed the phone from its cradle. "Yes," she said, her voice not betraying her sentiment. Whoever was on the other end of the phone was well and truly in for the tongue-lashing of their lives.

"What a sour way to answer the phone, Babcock." His tone was scolding and hard, and, for every ounce of her being, she had to admit it was also a phenomenal turn-on.

Niles caught her off guard; so much so, that her breath caught in her throat and for one glorious moment she hoped that she had drifted back to a sleeping state.

"Waking up in your own bed; you'd think this would be the start of a good day for you," the sarcastic butler said.

That was enough to bring her back to reality. Rubbing at her sleeping eyes, she kicked back the comforter on her bed and sat up, stretching. "Can it, Lysol. Why are you calling me? I'd ask why you were calling me this early, but really I'd rather you not call me at any time of the day."

She could practically see him grin over the line. They knew each other so well and so completely that she could almost hear his answer before he had a chance to say a word. "Funny, that is. You'd think someone who never got any calls would be elated to hear the phone ring… Then again, does it remind you too much of your old master, Pavlov?"

If she were keeping score, that would have been point two for the butler. "I'll ask you again, because I'm still too tired to throttle you…why the hell are you calling me?"

"There's a breakfast meeting being held at the Hilton and your presence has been requested," he said, looking at his watch. "God knows why Mr. Sheffield wants you there, but he has made the request. The meeting starts in an hour."

"An hour? Are you insane?" Sitting up, she realized that she wasn't about to finish her dream. "Damn it, are you doing this to screw me?"

Niles half-wanted to tell her that he always wanted to screw her – it wasn't a matter that required special circumstances – but there was only so much he could say without getting himself into trouble. "Go put on your face and get ready; I'll send the town car for you in a half hour."

Groaning, CC hung up the phone and flopped back down on the bed for a minute. She had been having such pleasant dreams, and now it was ruined by reality.

Realizing that every wasted second was one more that counted against her, CC stood up and decided her first course of action was to jump in the shower and try to shake the morning doldrums that she was feeling. If she multitasked it well enough, while she was conditioning her hair she could brush her teeth and figure out what she would wear. Make up would be trickier, but if she chose something that would allow her a larger purse, she could put it on in the car.

"What a way to start my birthday," she groaned as she grabbed her housecoat and headed towards the shower.

In her race around the apartment, CC had managed to get ready in less than twenty minutes. The final ten minutes waiting for the town car to arrive had been spent picking up things she had forgotten in the preliminary efforts, and then somehow, on the drive over to the restaurant, CC realized that in her haste, she had forgotten just about everything she needed.

When the car pulled up outside the Hilton, she tried to collect herself, if only a little bit, to face Maxwell and the investor. Who the hell was this person, anyway, and why was she getting hauled out in the wee small hours of the morning?

CC cursed as her heel caught on the door ledge of the car and she almost tumbled forward. Were it not for the driver standing nearby, she would have landed face-first on the sidewalk: not the most appealing of ways to start one's day.

Trying to regain composure as people nearby gawked at her, CC took a deep breath. She'd survive breakfast, and then race back to the mansion to get copies of all the documents she needed to have reviewed for the day, and if the opportunity arose, maybe she would sneak down to Starbucks for a latte while she worked. Being surrounded by people who had forgotten her birthday didn't rate very high on CC's scale of things to do.

As soon as she walked into the restaurant, she saw Maxwell sitting with an older man, the two of them laughing jovially. The resentment she felt bubbling inside of her was only paralleled by the anger she felt for being woken by a rude and inconsiderate butler. It wasn't fair that the typical boys club was what greeted her. Why the hell couldn't they for once be dealing with some brilliant female Broadway mind? Why did Maxwell always have to trot her out like a prizewinning show-pony for every over-weight would-be Lothario? She looked better in a dress, CC reminded herself, and that thought alone elicited a small laugh from her.

"Maxwell," CC said, announcing herself. The sooner she started this, the sooner it would be over with. Both men stood and the unknown grey-haired man smiled as he extended his hand.

"I had no clue, Maxwell, that your Miss Babcock would be quite so attractive," he said, shaking her hand fiercely.

Could she call it, or could she call it? There was something about his smarmy little ponytail and typically unbuttoned shirt that had fired the warning shot. Every buzzer in her head was screaming 'we've got a live one here' and she knew all too well to protect her assets from the likes of him. Smiling, she fought the urge to squeeze his hand viciously hard, hopefully cutting off the circulation. "You have the unfair advantage of knowing who I am," CC said sweetly, instead opting for the 'killing-him-with-kindness' route.

"Oh, yes," Maxwell said, "and she's a brilliant mind; a cohesive force in Sheffield Babcock Productions."

"And I still don't know who he is," CC growled through gritted teeth.

"Ah… CC this is Larry Diet," Maxwell said, though stumbling. He was not in top form this morning, this meeting still quite a surprise to him. "He works for Jared O'Neil, the CEO of Ambicor Financial. There's about to be a messy divorce, and apparently he'd like to liquefy some of his holdings."

"You wanna know the best way to piss off an ex-wife? Sell everything as a business transaction and anything you can't sell, donate," Larry said, winking at CC.

A shudder of horror passed through her. This man was worse than smarmy, though no adjective came to mind. "Not ever having had an ex-wife, I suppose I can't quite understand," she managed, still appalled by the horrendous little man who stood next to Max.

"I've had four – and it's always the same story," Larry assured her, taking his seat. CC and Maxwell quickly followed suit, though he noticed CC's hesitation; Larry was well within near reach, and she had no intention of letting the repulsive slimeball touch her.

"Larry was saying that there are a few wonderful pieces that he'd like to donate for our production of 'A Streetcar Named Desire," Maxwell said, "and also a very substantial investment."

CC groaned when the two men began droning on and on about something or another. She had barely managed a cup of coffee before being corralled out of her apartment, but now she had to deal with dumb and dumber?

It felt as if she had narrowly survived breakfast, the two men constantly slipping into a world of their own and gossiping like two old ladies. She had spent more time considering how she would get back at Niles for waking her so rudely, and although she had several ideas, none seemed quite cruel enough.

By the time they said their goodbyes, CC had barely managed to not snarl at Larry, and had it not been for Maxwell's assurance that it was a guaranteed investment, she would have been inclined to hit him for the constant barrage of sexist comments he made.

"I'm heading to the office," CC said, straightening her light jacket and tucking her hair behind her ears. "I left that portfolio of new actors on my desk at home and I wanted to get through them this morning. I'll meet you at the theatre."

Maxwell nodded, but quickly stopped in his tracks. "You know, why don't I go pick up the portfolio from the house and then I'll meet you? You're so much better with the cast than I am," he covered.

Stunned by the comment, CC laughed. "Let me guess? Nanny Fine has something going on, and you'd like to go back to the house and eavesdrop for a bit?"

Max shrugged, and then tried to cover. "Actually, I just thought it might be best for you to go and take care of things; they really do respond better to you."

CC wanted to point out that the actors merely respected (and feared) her more because she didn't put up with any of their primadonna tantrums, but instead she just let it slide. Her day was already on a downhill spiral, and there was no good reason that she could expect it to look up. A few hours of yelling at borderline incompetence might make her feel better. "I'm walking there," she told him. "I need to at least pick up a latte to recover from that atrocious meeting."

Max smiled and nodded, and headed in the opposite direction to the car.

The day continued on the same path, with every moment being taken up by some drama that Maxwell would undeniably fob off on her. It never ended.

By noon, she had already been sent to the theatre, to lunch with an overzealous actor who wanted to discuss redesigning his role in the play (she bitch-slapped him down harder than she had ever before, and it had felt good, considering how bad the day was) and begged to go on a shopping excursion with her least favorite Nanny. According to Maxwell, there had been a particularly bad morning for the nanny, and the only way he could think of to cheer her up was with shopping.

Try as she might, nothing seemed to change the mind of her colleague, and she was banished to a day of malls in Jersey, only to be dragged from tacky outlet to tacky outlet. At least when they made it back to Manhattan they were back among normal, living breathing humans, and not the android-like beings who cruised the $1.99 bargain bins for the next great find. CC found small consolation in Bloomingdale's and Macy's.

Finally, after what she considered to be the most torturous hours of her life, CC saw a glimmer of hope in the Sheffield mansion. The taxi ride had been unbearable, filled with droning conversation about Nanny Fine's parents, and the minute it stopped in front of the house, she practically leapt out of the car. "Home," she said, before realizing it really wasn't her home.

Fran dragged her bags up the steps behind her, hoping that everything was in place and that she hadn't somehow screwed up the timing. At the mall she had debated losing CC long enough to sneak to a payphone, but every time she left CC somewhere, she could see the blonde retreating to the doors.

"Just help me schlep this stuff to my room and then you're released from duty," Fran said, looking back at CC who was eyeing her with more than the average amount of contempt. She couldn't help but grin at the surprise that was yet to come.

"I don't schlep," CC grumbled, though all signs were pointing to the contrary. "Ok, sometimes I do. But I'm only doing this because Maxwell asked me to," she said for the fourth or fifth time since they had left Bloomingdale's. There had been at least half a dozen earlier complaints in that department store alone.

"Well, I'm glad you came," Fran said, putting her key in the door. She knew it was unlocked, but this was to be her 'sign' to the family. Well, that and 'accidentally' leaning on the doorbell as inconspicuously as possible before she tried to open the door. "You're not as uptight when we can get you out of the office."

Nodding her head in defeat, CC promised herself an entire bottle of champagne and a bubble bath to soothe her nerves. Fran had a way of getting to her that was completely unparalleled by anyone she had ever met before and would probably ever meet.

Opening the door, Fran flicked on the light and walked in, CC closely in tow.

"SURPRISE," a group screamed, jumping out of the darkness and causing CC to drop her briefcase and all the bags Fran had given her. There was suddenly a pile of unidentifiable sacks on the foyer floor.

"I'm glad I didn't give her the breakables," Fran said, quickly picking up all the bags and in one deft movement sweeping them into the closet.

"Oh my God," CC gasped, looking at the crowd. Her father was there, as was her brother Noel, and someone had picked up Chester, she was sure, because she could hear him yapping somewhere from the mass of people. Most of the cast and crew from the production were on hand as well, and then there were the Sheffields and Niles as well.

"Happy birthday Kitten," Stuart said.

"Daddy! You're here?"

"Of course," he said, making his way to his daughter. "I can't miss your birthday, now can I?"

CC stopped herself from making a smartass comment. He had missed all except her very earliest birthdays, so why should anything change now, she wondered. "I'm glad you're here," she said honestly.

"And there's all these people who were telling me about the great things you're doing, Kitten," he said, looking at the group of people gathered. "You know, you have a pretty good group of friends."

She wanted to snicker and tell him that they were only there for the hors d'oeuvres and free booze, but truth be told everyone seemed genuinely glad to be there. "I can't believe you're all here… Don't you have anything better to be doing on a Saturday night?"

Everyone laughed before moving closer to wish her a happy birthday personally. Behind the group of people was a mountain of gifts on a table in the middle of the room, all decorated and with large bows and cards.

"This is incredible," she managed, looking again at the decorations and the people. It seemed like just about everyone she knew was there, save for her sister and mother, and there wasn't anything she could have asked to have been done differently. Everything was decorated so tastefully, and with such delicate accents that it was perfect – almost as if she had chosen them for herself. "Just incredible," she said again, getting pulled to embraces by various people.

When the initial shock wore off, CC excused herself to get a glass of wine. She had seen a waiter making his rounds somewhere around the piano and with any luck she'd be able to commandeer his tray and knock back a few drinks. This was all so surreal to her.

She had managed to get _a_ glass of wine, and watching all of the most present people in her life interact with each other was an astounding sight. CC treated them as individuals, and never really considered what they would all be like _together_…that just wasn't how they functioned, but now she had her evidence that it was, in deed a reality.

"Hey," Niles said, appearing with a new glass of wine.

CC graciously accepted it, and smiled. "You knew I needed a top up?"

"You always need a top up," he said, gesturing towards the empty glass. "Happy birthday," Niles said sweetly, encouraged by the look of sheer happiness on her face that he witnessed when he walked up to her. There was something about her that was different tonight, and he was proud to have contributed to that change; this was a side of CC that he wanted to see more of.

"Thank you." Blushing under the scrutiny of his eyes, she wondered for a moment if they would ever re-write their story and be something other than enemies. He looked so dashing in his freshly-pressed suit – it was the first time she had seen this one and the navy complimented his eyes perfectly.

"It's not every year a woman turns…"

Before he had an opportunity to finish his sentence, CC stopped him with a stern glare.

"Ok, ok. I'll play nicely tonight, seeing as it is your birthday and all." He watched her, wondering if he ever stood a chance. There was something about her that after all these years still drew him in hopelessly, to the point of wanting to both love her for being so amazing and hate her for torturing him for so long.

The companionable silence was broken suddenly, and ruined the spirit of the moment. "I can't believe Maxwell did this; it's so unlike him to remember my birthday," CC marveled, looking around the room. Silver streamers and balloons decorated just about every doorway and arch and there were at least a dozen tasteful flower arrangements of long-stemmed roses.

Niles groaned. This had been his brainchild, and he had spent weeks assembling every intricate detail of the evening. This was supposed to be his chance to tell her how he felt for her, and to show her. Of course, he hadn't done it for the glory, per se, but it would have been nice to at least be recognized for the weeks of hard work.

"Well, you know how he is," he said dismissively. "I should go check on the main course; dinner is in a few minutes. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday." The tenderness of his voice relayed a little of the hurt he was feeling, and he could see her expression change. "I'll see you later," he said as he disappeared through the doorway en route to the kitchen.

The moment was gone, she realized, as he retreated away from her. Sipping from her glass of wine, CC hoped that he might swing by to insult her again that night.

With another few drinks in her, and more than an hour of friendly conversation over dinner with almost fifty of her nearest and dearest friends – or what might have been considered her friends, given her total lack of interest in socializing with coworkers – CC was feeling more than a little tipsy, and very congenial.

Finding Maxwell schmoozing with the guy from breakfast that day, CC waited until Jerry…Larry…whoever the hell he was, was gone and then decided to approach Maxwell. The least she could do was thank him for such a wonderful night. "Maxwell, I cannot believe the trouble you went to for me," CC gushed. It had been the single best night of her life.

"I wish I could take the credit, CC, but Niles did all the work," he said, smiling. He had never seen her seem so happy or complete. She was actually glowing, and there hadn't been a snide comment that passed her lips all evening.

"Yeah, but you planned it, didn't you?" She had never considered that anyone aside from Maxwell would have put the time into organizing the event.

"No, actually, Niles came to me with the idea, and explained that it would be a lovely surprise for you – he's worked really hard to pull this all together," Max added. He had never seen his friend work as hard as he had the past few weeks, constantly putting together menus and guest lists as well as planning decorations and staffing, but Niles had never seemed more content to throw himself into an event. It had been a refreshing change to see Niles revitalized since his heart attack and Maxwell had done everything he could to encourage the enthusiasm.

"This was all Niles' idea?"

"It was – and didn't he do a great job. Everything looks fantastic."

"It does," CC agreed, suddenly feeling a mixture of guilt and happiness. She had never thought that Niles would have been the one to pull it together for her, and to add insult to injury, she had actually said to him flat out how happy she was that Max had planned the event. Being the gentleman he was, he never corrected her, but in retrospect the wounded look he had given her made all the more sense.

"You know, I think he might have a little crush on you," Max said, not realizing how much of an understatement that was.

"A crush?"

"Well, he did insist on throwing you a posh party for your …" Before Max finished, he was interrupted by the dimming of the lights.

"Happy birthday to you," the crowd sang, as Niles wheeled out a beautiful white cake, complete with delicate handmade sugar flowers. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear CC. Happy birthday to you."

CC blushed at the room's attention being directed at solely her. Never before had such a big production been made for her birthday but it was a nice change.

"Blow out the candles Miss Babcock, before you burn down the house," Brighton called out from the crowd before realizing that it wasn't the kind of thing you said to CC. A moment later, when she smiled at him, he realized that he was saved by her unusually good mood, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"At least you didn't put the right number on," CC said, jokingly, "or else we would have needed a fire extinguisher."

The group laughed, taken with her good mood. When CC wasn't ripping people apart, she was quite charming, they began to realize.

Taking a deep breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears and leaned forward to blow out the candles.

"Make a wish," someone had called out, and for the first time in her life she stopped and thought about what she wanted most.

Closing her eyes, she thought about what would make her happiest in the world, and she blew out the candles to the roar of clapping. "Thank you, thank you," she said, taking a mock bow. "Whoever said I only use my hot air for evil was obviously mistaken."

The laughter continued, but when she looked around the room, Niles was nowhere to be found.

It took more work than one expected to find Niles. CC had searched high and low, and short of searching the bedrooms, she had covered every inch of the house. The one area, though, that she hadn't thought of checking, had been the office, so as her last resort, she snuck into the back office of the house.

"Niles?" Looking around, the dimness of the office made it impossible to see him, but then there was a glimmer of a red light from the patio. A cigar was burning. "Taken to drinking alone," she asked, smiling.

"I thought I could use a break from all the people," he replied, sipping from his cognac glass. "Mr. Sheffield just got a new box of cigars from an investor, and I thought I'd sample them."

"I'm fairly certain that smoking was a no-no after your heart attack?"

"It was."

"And yet you do it anyway?"

"Sometimes you've got to do what feels right," he said, ignoring the grin that came to her face.

Breaking the tension, she reached out a hand. "Well, do you have one for me?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, and when he didn't offer one to her, she reached into his inside tux pocket and extracted a cigar. "How did I know you'd have an extra?"

"Something about me that reminds you of a boy scout?" At her look of sheer confusion, he laughed before explaining. "Always be prepared, no? That's their motto."

"Ah, well, then." Clipping the end, she reached out for his lighter. "We make a good pair, you know that, right?"

Niles laughed.

"What? What's so funny?" Taking a puff from the cigar, she watched his eyes. When he laughed, his eyes danced, but not with the normal glimmer that he usually had when they teased each other.

"We're not such a good pair," he said, puffing away. A moment later, at her curious gaze, he decided that it was now or never. There was nothing left to be lost. "We're a numerical impossibility," he said sadly. "It's one of those things like 'one plus one equals four'… It just doesn't happen." It wasn't like he didn't want it to happen; more than anything in his life, he wanted CC Babcock, but he wasn't about to sell himself on a fantasy that could never come true.

"Who says?"

"There has to be some universal law that says socialites don't marry butlers they hate," he replied.

"I don't hate you," she said softly. It was as close to a confession of love as she could get without knowing where he stood on the matter, but she prayed it would be enough. It suddenly clicked what he had said. "And who said anything about marrying you?"

"That's my point. I can't love you for a short while – I tried, and it doesn't work. I just can't do it. I know that what I feel for you is a forever thing, and if I were to have you, I'd want all of you, not just the bits you wanted to give me. That's another on the long list of reasons we won't work," he said, avoiding eye contact.

CC felt her heart beat faster. He had just admitted that he loved her. Things were moving so much more quickly than she had ever anticipated, but suddenly there was hope where she had none before. "Do you think that maybe there's something we can do differently?"

"Short of being different people," he complained, "there's not anything we can do. You can't lower yourself to my lot in life, and I can't ever elevate myself to your level. We're at an impasse."

"But I don't want to be," she whined. "You know, you're awful presumptuous."

"Presumptuous? You're telling me that you can see a way to make 'me' and 'you' a possibility?" He watched as she calculated her next move.

Leaning against the wall, she smiled. "There's one way to tell if there is something that could be between us, though I'm pretty sure I know the answer."

"How much have you had to drink," he asked, the glimmer in her eye more mischievous than usual.

"Not as much as you'd think, but maybe enough to build up some courage." Putting her cigar in her left hand, she walked closer to him. When he took a step back, she only moved closer again, this time using her right hand to take his free hand. "I'm going to kiss you now, and if you don't feel anything then that's our answer but somehow I expect there will be fireworks."

"Fireworks?" Niles laughed. "You've drank more than you're willing to say, obviously."

As she reached up towards him, he felt a pull towards her and as CC got nearer to him, he knew that he had lost the game. "I don't think…"

Silencing him with her fingers, she ran her fingers along his chin. "Now, if you feel even a little bit of what you say you feel for me, please don't shut this down before it even happens."

Before the words had even left her mouth, he knew what was next. Pressing his lips against hers, he felt her hand wrap around his neck and the feel of her body against his.

The kiss wasn't long and passionate, but it was full of promise and meaning, their tongues caressing each other.

Pulling away from him, CC smiled. "Ok, so fireworks?"

"Maybe sparklers," he said smartly, hoping to get a reaction from her.

"Oh, you know it – they were fireworks. We both know it."

Shrugging, he gave her his best impish grin. "Maybe."

Laughing, she walked away from him, and quickly enough he followed, grabbing her hand from behind her.

"Fireworks," he admitted.

"I thought so. So, we're not quite the numerical impossibility that you thought?"

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, he smiled at her softly. "If you're willing to try, I know I want to," he admitted. "I just never thought you'd want to."

"Neither did I," she confessed, "but now that I've learned that wishes do come true, I'm going to make a lot more of them."

"Wishes?"

"With birthday cakes and candles," she explained. "Because now we're standing under the moon and stars, and we just kissed and there were fireworks…"

"Yes, there were… I'm glad this turned out to be such a happy birthday," he whispered, pulling her in to an embrace.

"So am I. Thank you, Niles."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

The End


End file.
